


Speaking in Tongues

by faithinthepoor



Series: Murder in Suburbia [4]
Category: Murder in Suburbia (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithinthepoor/pseuds/faithinthepoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Golden Oldies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking in Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> In my series this follows [Loosely Translated](http://archiveofourown.org/works/630087), [Signals and Codes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/630091) and [Mixed Messages](http://archiveofourown.org/works/630106)

This is a job that comes with its fair share of difficulties and she was aware of that when she chose it. She doesn’t complain about the smells or the gore or the sleepless nights because they were all factors that she signed on for but what she did not sign on for was being trapped in a surveillance van, having her heart ripped out, as she is forced to watch Ash kissing Sullivan. Scribbs is doing her best to be casual about it, trying to smile and pass it off as a joke but it is not remotely funny and it is possible that nothing is ever going to be funny again.

“You can stop kissing now.” She thought her message was clear, it was hardly awash with ambiguity but it isn’t effective and she is forced to clarify, “Target clear, she’s not on to you.” The suspect may not be on anyone but Ash was all over Sullivan like a rash and Scribbs fears it’s a picture that will haunt her forever, she is thinking of looking into the possibly of a brain enema or maybe even a lobotomy.

Ash pulls away from him and says, “Ah, just got away with it.” She’s not entirely sure what Ash means by that but she is fairly certain that Ash doesn’t know that what she has gotten away with is crushing Scribbs’ spirit.

She has to admit that she is alarmingly impressed that the suspect ordered a hit on her husband; it seems a shame that they have to arrest the woman. It might be a crime but it is one that Scribbs can understand and respect. If the woman doesn’t incriminate herself, Scribbs could befriend her and get tips on learning how to contact hit men because all of a sudden she has someone that she needs to eliminate. It is a tempting thought but on the other hand, arresting the woman comes with the undeniable bonus of getting Ash and Sullivan out of the car. There really is no contest and she channels all of her energy into praying for the woman to make a foolish misstep. 

The suspect complies and as the arrest is made she ejects herself from the van and hurtles over to Ash and Sullivan. With some difficultly she wills herself to act normally and to talk to them, “Twenty grand to murder your husband.”

She is expecting Ash to respond but instead Sullivan adds, “Still cheaper than a divorce.” Right now twenty grand is a bargain compared with what she would be willing to pay to have Sullivan killed. In a way she could have lived with the kiss but Sullivan has just made Ash laugh, that Scribbs’ job, she brings the jokes and she’ll be buggered if she is going to just let him take that from her.

She knew that it would be hard to erase the image of ‘the kiss’ from her head but she didn’t realise just how hard it would make it to be around Ash. Driving to their latest crime scene is very nearly impossible for her; she can’t be in a vehicle with Ash without thinking about what Ash recently did in a car and how it is something that Ash will never do with her. Thinking isn’t her only problem, apparently she can’t stop herself from talking either, even though she knows that she should not open this door and that there is no way that it can end well for her, “So about last night….” 

“We did what we had to do to save a three month investigation”

“Yeah.”

“We got a result didn’t we?”

“Well you did,” she’s surprised at how calm she sounds, maybe loving Ash from a distance is beginning to make her immune to pain.

“Scribbs, she was nervous, it’s the oldest trick in the book to pretend to be a courting couple. Birch Grove, suspicious death, please concentrate.” 

Ash might as well be asking her to spin straw into gold because she can’t think about the case, she can’t think about anything other than the fact that Ash let Sullivan put his tongue down her throat. “If you did what you had to do to save a three month investigation, then why use tongues?” Ash looks shocked and like she is about to deny her actions and so Scribbs adds, “It’s on the video.” She didn’t need to look at the footage to know this but she did it anyway. She wishes she could pretend that she watched it to confirm her suspicions but it was a masochistic action designed to remind that she has to get over Ash because Ash will never be hers. It didn’t work though, not that she in anyway enjoyed watching the tape but all it achieved was to fuel her jealousy and increase her desire for Ash.

At least a dead body gives her something else to think about and then Gallimore helps and manages to secure a place on her Christmas card list, well at least he would have a place if she was organised enough to give out Christmas cards, by teasing Ash and bringing the kind of gallows humour that reminds her that life will go on no matter how serious a tragedy one is facing. She has a case to solve, her heart may be bruised and battered but JJ’s heart has stopped and that deserves some of her attention.

“We’ll take it from here, thank you, Zenith.” Ash seems to be in command of the investigation and completely unaware that Scribbs’ mind has been a million miles away.

“I’d rather stay,” Zenith replies.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” As amusing as she found that moment, Scribbs kind of wants Zenith to stay. Ash is so unbelievably sexy when she is manages to be forceful and yet uptight that Scribbs really needs the protection of having more people in the room. She is worried that if she is left alone with Ash and the vacant widow there will be nothing to stop her from trying to prove that she has so much more to offer Ash than Sullivan does. When Zenith leaves she is forced to come up with an alternate solution and removes herself and the widow from the room.

She steals herself before she returns to the room, convincing herself that she will be able to control herself if she has a corpse to deal with, it is probably disrespectful to the departed but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Watching the macerated wig being pulled out of the dead man’s mouth might have been more than she was anticipating but it was also an effective deterrent, it certainly suppressed her raging libido and allowed her to focus her attention back on the case. Its power lasts right up until the moment that she is back on familiar territory and her colleagues insist on watching the tape of ‘the kiss’. Watching the tape with others is the last thing that she wants to do but she finds herself roped in, unable to think of a legitimate reason to refuse. She does win the pool that they were running about the length of the kiss and if she was worried what they would think if she didn’t watch it, she probably also should have been worried about what that they think about her knowing the exact length of the kiss but she shrugs it off as part of her feminine wiles. 

Again she has to brace herself to be in Ash’s company, it doesn’t bode well for their working partnership if it is difficult for her to talk to Ash or if hearing Ash paraphrase Zenith adages by stating that, “Life certainly begins at seventy,” fills her with more hope than it should, even if that it is very long time to wait for happiness. 

“It’s a bit scary to think that you can still have man trouble at that age.” It’s also kind of sad to realise that senior citizens are possibly having a better sex life and are certainly having a better love life than she is.

“Or woman trouble, it’s a two way street Scribbs.” Sometimes she really hates that Sullivan is their boss. Lately it’s been more than just sometimes but right now she hates that she isn’t in any position to tell him to shut the hell up. She doesn’t need him to go around reminding her that she has woman trouble especially when he is part of the problem. Sullivan continues to dance on very thin ice when he dares to bring up ‘the kiss’ in her presence and she’d been prepared to increase her hatred of him to a whole new level but Ash didn’t seem entirely pleased about it so he goes back to being a target of her garden variety kind of hatred, that is unless he tries to kiss Ash again.

“Is everyone gossiping about this?” She’s going to stay out on her limb and continue to think that Ash is very uncomfortable with the idea of having kissed Sullivan. 

Secretly, she hopes it is because he was a crap kisser but knowing her luck he is probably as good a kisser as he is a dancer. “No, well a bit.”

“What do you mean a bit?”

“Ash it’s great the way the station is gossiping about you and Sullivan.” The yardstick by which she has started to measure greatness has apparently gotten very, very small. It is great compared with, say, pealing off her skin and rolling around in salt. 

“Buzzing?”

“Thirteen second kiss.”

“No it wasn’t.” Ash definitely seems to be in some major denial and she has to try really hard not to be excited by that fact.

“It’s been timed.” It’s probably better than she doesn’t mention that she is the one who timed it and that she is aware of every nuance of the kiss and every part of Ash’s body that needs to be decontaminated because Sullivan has touched it. “Anyway don’t knock it, you could do with a bit of scandal.” Again it is probably better that she doesn’t mention that she’s willing to be the source of the scandal.

“He kissed me.” Ash seems displeased and although it is difficult Scribbs will not allow herself to get her hopes built up.

“Oh you kissed each other. Watch the tape, you were all over each other like a pair of crazy ants.” She won’t allow Ash to disavow the reality of the situation, not when she is forced to relive the horrific memory over and over again. She been offered trauma counselling before, usually it’s being rammed down her throat when the only thing that is making her feel bad is the fact that people are trying to force counselling on her and now here she is with her life falling apart and help is no where in sight.

The only comfort that is on hand is Eric’s invite for a cappuccino and even then he sticks them with the bill. She would be offended by him enquiring if they are really police officers but she has to admit that she wasn’t wearing her detective hat at any point during the conversation because she was too busy being distracted by the way Ash’s leg would occasionally brush against her own. She also spent a large amount of time pointlessly thinking about what Ash would do if she happened to reach over and grab her hand under the table.

When they return to Birch Grove, Ash continues to handle Zenith in that completely polite and yet highly effective manner that seems so effortless to her and unfortunately turns Scribbs on so much. She really can’t imagine anyone other than Ash responding to the statement, “A weak pelvic floor greatly diminishes orgasm,” with the words, “We’re not interested in orgasms.” 

Learning that Ash has no interest in orgasms is somewhat of a mixed blessing. She likes the idea that Ash isn’t all that interested in sex, if she can’t have Ash she really doesn’t want anyone else to but it also gives her thoughts about maybe being the person who could change Ash’s mind about the power and the importance of the orgasm. Even when life gives her the perfect opportunity to pull away she fails to do so and somehow twists things back around to her interest in Ash. She has never been in over her head like this before, not even with the married guy who turned her into a semi-stalker. She is not someone who overanalyses things, she is someone who leaps and then looks back to discover all the reasons why she should have waited and all the other places that she should have leapt to, but the way she feels about Ash has her scrutinising her every movement. When Ash returns to the room and nudges her arm she makes a grab for Ash’s arm in return but then stops herself, unable to decide what constitutes too little and what constitutes too much affection. 

She is driving herself completely crazy so it’s not that difficult for her to bond with an old woman prone to memory lapses and impulsive outbursts. It’s sweet watching the old dear talk about her love for stars of yesteryear. She confesses her own celebrity crushes and while she says she is Brad Pitt’s girl that isn’t true anymore. There is little point in fantasising about an unobtainable media construct when she has her very own embodiment of unobtainable perfection right there in the building.

She runs into her unobtainable girl after she takes Laura back to her room, “Laura’s having a lie down for a little while, she’s exhausted.”

“She’s a suspect Scribbs, not your granny.” Ash has a much greater capacity to distance herself from people than Scribbs does; she also has a great capacity to make Scribbs feel like she is two inches tall, “She’s got a motive and a psychiatric history. She knew that Cindy was leaving him and that JJ would be alone.”

“Yeah but I don’t think she’s a suspect. She’s just frightened, they all are, which is why we’re doing this.” She is doing her best to pretend that it is the only reason that she suggested that the stay there and not because she wants to keep Ash away from Sullivan or that she wants Ash to herself.

“Ok, fine, we’ll do it your way.” Scribbs would never admit to anyone just how pleased it made her that Ash went along with her recommendation; she doesn’t need people to know just how worried she is that Ash doesn’t ever take her seriously. 

Her recommendation turns out to be another example of ways in which her insanity is effecting her and she has no idea why she doesn’t retract the suggestion when there are so many signs pointing out to her what a bad idea it is. She can not begin to explain why she would advocate that they stay the night after she walked into a room in which Zenith was giving a talk on improving your sex life, let alone why she would whisper, “We might learn something,” to Ash and grab at Ash’s arm. She is also at a loss to explain why she would make eye contact with Ash when Zenith was talking about a sustained and active lesbian sex life. 

Ash seemed shocked but not exactly offended, still Scribbs really hopes that Ash didn’t see her nodding along when Zenith mentioned, “That there’s no shame ladies, no shame at all, in being grey and gay.”

There is no reason in the world for her to think that it is a good idea that they stay, especially when she learns that they will be sharing not only a room but a bed and yet she can’t bring herself to suggest that they should leave. She is determined to enjoy her little make believe holiday with Ash and even goes so far as to inform her, “Oh we’ve got the honeymoon suite,” and she is willing to accept that their little getaway is going to occasionally be interrupted by the demands of a homicide investigation because it’s better than nothing.

Despite Ash’s frequent derogatory comments about Scribbs’ intelligence, Scribbs has never actually believed that she was stupid until now. “Why am I doing this?” The question is rhetorical and she knows this because she has been taught by experts about rhetorical questions. She is standing there in her underwear about to let Ash try and drown her because she will do anything that Ash asks of her.

“To narrow down the suspects. How strong do you need to be? Could the killer be a woman?”

“But why not you?” She complains on principle but really it is so much better that she is the one who will be getting in the bath, she is positive that she wouldn’t be able to control herself if Ash was all wet and her clothes were clinging to her body.

“Scribbs, we found some bubble bath, what more do you want?” 

She can’t imagine why Ash would think that she would find a thin layer of bubbles adequate enticement and is tempted to tell Ash that what she wants is an extremely large drink but mixing alcohol with this situation is not wise so she settles for placing her hand in the water and whining. “It’s hot.” 

“In you get. Come on. Lie down.” It annoys her how quickly she responds to Ash and how she can’t stop thinking about how some of the words coming out of Ash’s mouth would translate very well to a bedroom setting.

“JJ was taller than me.” Sometimes she has no control over the things that she says. She is so busy trying to suppress the inappropriate urge that is telling her to grab Ash and pull her in with her that she isn’t able to stop herself from making the kind of statement that Ash is so going to add to the list of incidents that cause her to doubt Scribbs’ IQ.

“Ok, you’re a washed up star, you’re drunk, you’re sedated and your wife’s just left you.”

“Maybe it was suicide.” She can identify, death is starting to look like a sensible option. She should have hired the hit man and got him to kill both Sullivan and herself to put them out of their Ash related misery. The simpler solution would have been to get the hit man to take out Ash but while she frequently wants to slap Ash, she loves her far too much to ever want to cause her pain. She happily put herself between Angel and Ash and she would do it again. She’d do anything for Ash which, unfortunately, seems to include getting half naked in front of her and letting Ash pull her underwater. She has the self-preservation skills of a lemming.

“The killer drugged JJ’s scotch which is another sign of premeditation but how did they know he was going to be in the bath?” Scribbs was right about Ash adding to the list of things that reflect poorly on her intelligence because Ash is speaking to her as though she is slow and dull. 

“Can we just get on with it?”

“Alright I am going to hold you under for ten seconds ok? Now, remember you’ve got to fight back.”

“Yeah I intend to just don’t stuff a toupee in my mouth.” She didn’t expect Ash to pull her under quite so quickly but at least struggling for oxygen helps distract her mind from the thought that Ash’s shirt must be getting splashed. Ash’s white shirt. The distraction isn’t enough and she actually stops fighting in favour of contemplating Ash in a wet shirt.

Her sudden lack of movement obviously bothers Ash because Ash lowers her legs in response. Although she is not entirely comforted but the fact that Ash’s response to her emerging from the water, breathless and spluttering is to tell her, “It’s really easy.” Ash seems kind of excited, like drowning Scribbs is something that she thinks about often. She has to get herself out of the bath because there is absolutely nothing easy about this situation.

She wraps a towel around her which in comparison to the water feels like a suit of armour and watches as Ash cleans up, trying desperately not to notice the view that she is given of Ashes arse.

“Any chance of some help?”

She would jump through fire for Ash but her loyalty does not extend to tidying, “Compulsive cleaning’s your department.”

“We’ve made a hell of a mess.”

“Please don’t clean the whole bathroom.” She will not let Ash spend their night in the honeymoon suite on her hands and knees, at least not for this reason.

“Scribbs, the murderer must have cleaned up after they killed him.” Scribbs briefly wonders if needing to conceal a crime would be enough to convince her to do housework before she pulls her mind back to the case. She isn’t allowed to stay in the comfortable and familiar area of death for long because they suddenly find themselves whisked off to Monte Carlo night. Everyone there is playing dress-ups so she blends right in, the only difference is that she is imagining that she really is on holidays with Ash and that they have dressed up for one another, even if these are not the outfits that she would have selected for the occasion. As fantasies goes, it’s not much but it’s still more than life is ever likely to give her. Life is particularly cruel and it forces her to be standing right next to Ash as she watches Zenith stroke Ellie’s face, making her realise that this is something else that she will never have. Roulette has obtained a whole new level of excitement because regular roulette is so much less risky than the emotional version that she plays every time she is near Ash. 

Even when it’s painful she can’t stand to be away from Ash too long and after she wins on one spin of the wheel she returns to Ash’s side. She slips into Laura’s place at the table as Ash remarks, “Well her memory’s made a remarkable recovery.”

“My Nana could count cards long after she forgot to put her skirt on in the morning.” She really needs to stop regaling Ash with tales of her family, she doesn’t need Ash to think any less of her than she already does, but she can’t stop herself because she wants Ash to be a part of her life, however superficially.

“Well that must have livened up the bridge club.” At least Ash seems to like and to remember her stories. She allows herself to enjoy the moment and Ash’s company and is a little annoyed when Cindy’s hysterical tirade breaks up the evening. For some reason, hearing Cindy talk about loving JJ despite all of his flaws and all of his infidelities hits home with Scribbs. It’s not exactly the same situation, Ash isn’t being unfaithful, Ash isn’t hers and never will be. She doesn’t know if there are different types of romantic love but even if she has to spend her whole life watching Ash with an endless parade of Mr Wrongs or witness the even more devastating situation of Ash finding one Mr Right, Scribbs can’t imagine that she would ever feel relief over Ash’s death. Loving Ash may cause her pain but she doesn’t want that pain to be taken away because it’s all that she has.

She will not think about these things, she will do her best to make the most of whatever time she is granted with Ash even if Ash can’t shut her brain off and continues to pace around the bedroom discussing the case long after they should have retired for the night.

“Stuffing a toupee into JJ’s mouth was an act of passion, or rage, but the killer drugged him first and then cleaned up afterwards, which seems entirely cold blooded.”

“Yeah if they did.”

“I think they did.” Ash continue to wear a path into the floor. “Was the murder spontaneous or carefully planned?”

It’s late and she simply doesn’t care anymore, “Ash, don’t take this the wrong way but just come to bed.” The statement seems simple enough but she knows that Ash will take things the wrong way and think that she wants her to get into bed for ‘stop pacing and shut-up because you’re doing my head in’ reasons rather than for ‘stop pacing and shut up because we are sharing a double bed and I want to have my way with you’ reasons. She tries to give a subtle hint, “Do you think Zenith and Ellie are a couple?”

“If she practises what she preaches they will be.” Scribbs is more than mildly aware of the fact that when Ash removes her gown she reveals a small strip of skin. It’s far from pornographic and yet it is possibly the most alluring thing that she has ever seen. She is fairly sure that if she was standing she would have gone weak at the knees due to the site of bare midriff which is bizarre because she’s not normally all that effected by nakedness. The effect must be Ash specific. Something else that is Ash specific is the way she moves over in response to Ash saying, “Um. I can’t sleep on that side of the bed.” She doesn’t give up her side of the bed for anyone, not even if they’ve wined and dined her and sexed her up and yet Ash doesn’t even really have to ask and she happily surrenders it to her.

“Maybe that’s why they gave us a double bed.” She has given up on subtle and is going for blatant but she doesn’t think anything short of saying, ‘Fancy a shag?’ will get Ash’s attention and even then she might need to spell out that she wasn’t asking if Ash fancied a shag in general but rather a shag with her, right here and right now.

“Right these are the rules.” Of course they are rules, she’s not surprised by this but what does surprise her is how comforted she is by the fact that even in bed Ash is still Ash. It’s comforting in a heartbreaking, Ash couldn’t be anymore perfect and if she loved her anymore she would die kind of a way. “This is my side of the bed so no diagonal sleeping and no heavy breathing in this direction and absolutely no stray limbs.”

She’s probably reading too much into it but Ash seems unsettled by the prospect of them sharing a bed and particularly nervous about the idea of them touching, “Do you do this with everyone you sleep with?”

“No. I usually have ear plugs.”

Apparently she has the patience of a saint and would have made a good nun except for that twilight period between sleep and wake. She manages to keep to her side of the bed and to her surprise she even manages to fall asleep but she wakes during the night and breaks all of the rules by reaching for Ash. She’s not sure what’s more disturbing, realising that Ash isn’t there or realising the part of Ash’s body that her hand would likely be touching if she was but neither of these things are as disturbing as finding Ash awake and scrutinising the footage of ‘the kiss’. Ash seems determined to point out that it was Sullivan who initiated the kiss and Scribbs would want to know why it was so important to Ash except it doesn’t seem to matter in the face of the obvious fact that regardless of who initiated the kiss, Ash was an enthusiastic participant. It’s not just obvious to her, it must be apparent to the ailing grey set also because they refer to Sullivan as Ash’s boyfriend when he arrives.

She tries to smile and seem comfortable with the situation and nothing at all like a woman who wants to scratch Sullivan’s eyes out but it is not easy with him standing close to Ash and telling her that he got people to work through the night for her and implying that he will follow where she leads. Scribbs gets to be the side kick, the one Ash jokes with and solves cases with but despite his joke about following Ash, Sullivan gets to be the leading man. Scribbs tries to pretend that it doesn’t matter, that at least she gets a part of Ash but it’s hard not to be bitter. It would be so much easier if Ash didn’t banter and joke with her and make comments like, “Oh, your friend’s still waving,” that somehow make it impossible for Scribbs to just walk away.

“Bye, bye Laura,” she doesn’t care what Ash says, she thinks Laura is sweet and she does remind her of a fully clothed version of her granny.

“I’ve grown quite fond of the place.”

“I’ve booked us in for 2050.”

“What you and me growing old together?” Scribbs’ only thought in response to this is, ‘If only.’ A thought that resonates strongly in her head as Ash goes ballistic about ‘the kiss’ wallpaper.

“Okay everyone listen up. Hello. Excuse me. Um can I just say this isn’t funny, okay, it’s boring and if you want to have a laugh at someone then I suggest that you have a laugh at the DCI because if you study that video you will see quite clearly that it is Detective Chief Inspector Sullivan who initiates the kiss, the snog, the whatever you want to call it and not me because if it was me that had started it, me who’d kissed him then….then, then this is what it would be like. Excuse me.” All of the enjoyment that she was having watching the implacable Ash floundering for words and embarrassing herself in front of their boss evaporates as she is forced to watch her girl frenching the hell out of Sullivan. “Okay. Kay,” she’s not sure why one of those is aimed directly at her, Ash doesn’t need to hurt her more than she already has but she still follows Ash out of the room. She struggles to catch up with Ash as she is powering down the corridor, something that Ash clearly expected her to do because Ash speaks to her without looking back to check that she is there, “I think I made my point don’t you.”

“Absolutely.” It’s crystal clear to Scribbs. The message is obvious - she is not going to be the one growing old with Ash, she is going to be the one forced to spend the rest of her life watching Ash and Sullivan together. “So what do you want to do now? Go for a drink? Ask for a transfer? Commit suicide?” They are all options that seem rather appealing to Scribbs right now.

“I need some air.”

“Me too.”

It would seem that the air that Ash needs can be found in a pub and as Ash goes off to order their second round she calls work on her recently returned mobile to inform them that they will not be in for rest of the day. Sullivan seems to have no objections to their truancy and if it didn’t kill her to watch it, she would think about asking Ash to kiss Sullivan in front of the squad more often.

As afternoon wears on into evening the place becomes more crowded and Ash becomes more flighty. She is doing her best not to get too drunk because as it is she is having trouble stopping herself touching this vulnerable version of Ash. Ash allows her to place her hand on top of hers briefly but then pulls her own hand out from underneath and disappears to the bar accusing Scribbs of nursing her drink. 

She doesn’t want to sound like she is an expert on the amount of time it takes buy a round but Ash has been gone a very long time and she cranes her head up, scanning the dim establishment for a flash of dark hair or alabaster skin. Ash doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the vicinity and Scribbs is starting to get worried when a hand falls on her shoulder. Ash has re-emerged from the complete opposite direction to the one she disappeared in and she is not bearing any drinks. Scribbs is about to ask Ash what she has been up to when Ash yells, “Come on,” grabs her by the wrist and drags her outside, barely giving Scribbs the chance to grab their coats.

She finds herself in the alley beside the pub watching Ash fumble as she attempts to light a cigarette. Ash looks like a naughty school girl, a drunk, uncoordinated naughty school girl but a naughty school girl nonetheless. “I didn’t think you smoked,” she comments as she takes the cigarette from Ash and lights it for her. As she hands the cigarette back to Ash she has to force herself not to think about how it has been moving between their lips and that if something is going to be moving between their lips, she wants it to be their tongues.

“I don’t,” Ash replies as she inhales deeply, “they’re bad for you.”

She takes the packet from Ash’s hands and lights a cigarette for herself, “Right and that would be why we are smoking in an ally.”

“Exactly!” Ash pokes her in the chest for emphasis. “I can’t have people see me doing bad things.”

“Well not twice in one day.”

“Twice?” Ash looks confused.

“Playing tonsil hockey with Sullivan in front of everyone wasn’t exactly good.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous.”

“I’m, I’m not jealous,” she stammers.

“Yes you are,” Scribbs wants to die in response to Ash’s words, “and it’s not fair.”

“Fair?” it’s Scribbs turn to be confused.

Ash becomes tearful, “I know that you are much more appealing than me but is it completely out of the question to think that someone might like me more than you?  
That for once I am the girl that gets picked?”

“Of course not,” she cautiously reaches up to wipe a tear from Ash’s cheek.

“I know you like him, I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“I don’t give a toss about Sullivan.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Jealous.” 

The circular conversation is starting to hurt her head, “Because you are my DI.”

“Of course I am. I’m not going anywhere. I may not be able to look Sullivan in the eye again but I’m not applying for a transfer.”

“You don’t understand,” she grabs Ash’s hands and pins them to the wall, the cigarettes crush in the processes but the embers are warm against her fingers and her voice becomes low as she slowly utters, “You are _my_ DI.” By the time she has finished speaking she has moved so that her lips are millimetres from Ash’s and she has to close her eyes. She needs to keep the memory of this moment perfect, it is the last moment that she and Ash and going to be friends and she will be damned if she is going to witness Ash’s rejection of her, hearing it will be bad enough.

“Yes. Yes I am.” She was about to open her eyes and use small words to explain to drunk Ash exactly what she means but Ash’s lips have collided with hers and it is clear that Ash isn’t confused about her intent. Ash’s kiss is forceful and possessive and she likes to think it is much more passionate than either of the kisses that Ash has shared with Sullivan. Ash didn’t pull at Sullivan’s hair of move her hands under his clothing. The kiss ends as abruptly as it began and she prepares herself to watch Ash back-peddle all the way to repressed land but instead Ash laces their fingers together and plants a brief kiss on her lips and again tells her to, “Come on” before dragging her away from the alleyway.

Ash is rather zealous in her attempts to hail a cab and Scribbs is worried that she is going to fall into the street. She attempts to wrap her arms around Ash’s waist but Ash pulls her hands away and shakes her head. “Scribbs,” she admonishes, “what are my two rules about fun?”

“Timing, behaviour and surroundings,” she dutifully replies.

Ash’s forehead and nose crinkle in an adorable manner, “Those are three things and no that’s not what you are meant to say.”

“I know they are three things and they are your rules as I understand them.”

“But that’s not what you usually say, say what you usually say.”

Apparently Ash goes from quietly demanding to loudly demanding when she is drunk and Scribbs searches her mind for the right response, “Oh, you mean not here, not now?”

“Yes!” Ash exclaims happily before breaking the rules and nuzzling at Scribbs’ neck. 

She manages to pour Ash into a cab and watches as Ash quizzes the driver on his family pedigree and his contacts within the emergency services. “Ash leave the man alone.”

Ash shushes her and returns to her interrogation. When Ash finishes she turns to Scribbs and declares, “I think our secret will be safe,” and then proceeds to devour Scribbs’ mouth.

When the reach Ash’s the driver attempts to tell them that they don’t need to pay and that he’s happy to give them their lift for free but Scribbs forces the money on him, resentful that he has made something that is so special to her seem so dirty. They make it to the bedroom rarely having their lips out of touch and things are going swimmingly until she manages to pull Ash’s top over her head and Ash suddenly freezes. “Did I do something wrong?” Scribbs asks puzzled.

“No. It’s not that, it’s just that you have a lot more experience than I do.”

“Are you implying that I am a slut?”

She expects Ash to contradict her, it’s what normal people do but Ash is not normal people, “You are a little bit slutty.” Scribbs giggles and places a kiss on Ash’s shoulder. “Wait. We need to talk. I don’t know that I’ll be any good at this.”

“Ash you’ve had sex before, you’ve told me about it and if it will help I can try and cry afterwards.”

Ash blushes and ducks her head, “You don’t need to do that but you need to know that I’ve not done this before, not with a woman, well not since school.”

Scribbs is literally taken about and is grateful that this takes her in contact with the bed because her legs don’t really work anymore. She sits herself on the edge of the bed, “Oh my god!”

“I knew this was going to be a problem, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“It’s not a problem I just never pictured your Posh Girl’s High to be a hot bed of lesbianism.”

“It wasn’t,” Ash protests.

“Then you will have to explain this to me.”

“After, I’ll explain after, if we stop I’m worried that I will turn into me and I won’t be able to do this.”

“Come here,” she pulls Ash onto her lap forcing Ash to wrap her legs around Scribbs' waist to keep her balance. Scribbs runs her fingers up and down Ash’s bare arms eliciting goose bumps, “We are going to do this, I promise,” she pauses to kiss Ash’s neck, “but I really need to hear about what they were teaching you at the Gentry Grammar while I was being taught petty thievery and how to perform backyard abortions.”

“It wasn’t like that, we didn’t have a lot of male companionship and we would practise kissing and stuff and sometimes we went a little too far but it was never meant to mean anything. I guess it probably meant more to me than it should but I didn’t realise the implications of that at the time.”

“What was her name?”

“Who?”

“The girl you went a little too far with, the girl you wanted, the girl I remind you of.”

“Her name was Penny but you’re wrong, she was nothing like you,” Ash kisses her tenderly, “there has never been anyone like you.”

She lies back on the bed and pulls Ash on top of her. They exchange kisses as they remove more clothing but when Ash slides her fingers under the band of her underwear it is Scribbs’ turn to freeze, “Wait.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing baby, nothing at all.”

“Then what?”

“I think we should wait until tomorrow.”

“I disagree,” the fingers return to their quest.

“Ash,” she squeaks, “You’re drunk and I want you to be sober the first time we do this.”

Ash manages to look both annoyed and awe struck, “First time?” she whispers.

“I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to. I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Ash bites at her own lip and tears spring to her eyes again.

Scribbs pulls Ash into a firm embrace, “Yours, all yours, but you can’t have all of me tonight.”

“I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” Scribbs laughs, “you’ve turned repression into an art form.”

“I’m not frigid,” Ash protests.

“I’m aware,” she replies are she pulls Ash’s hands from her arse, “now keep your hands to yourself and get some sleep.”

“But.”

“But nothing, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can wake up and have the glory that is me.”

Ash seems to contemplate this for a while but then nods, “Okay.” She places her head on Scribbs’ shoulder and loops her leg around Scribbs.

“Good girl. Goodnight Ash.”

“Night Scribbs.”

“Ash,” she states in warning, “hands.”

“Sorry,” Ash mumbles. Scribbs isn’t sure how long she can keep up a resistant stance but thankfully it’s not that long before the alcohol catches up with Ash and she passes out.

“I love you,” Scribbs whispers to the sleeping form and places a tender a kiss on her hair before resting her forehead on Ash’s.

It is still night when Scribbs wakes to a demanding bladder and an empty bed. She attends to the bladder issue before going in search of Ash. She finds Ash on the couch. “Is this going to be what happens whenever we sleep together or should I just feel lucky that you are not watching a video of you kissing Sullivan this time?”

“How am I going to face him?”

“You were doing okay facing him after the first kiss.”

“That was different, he kissed me on that occasion.”

“Can’t you just tell him that you got caught up in the moment but that now that you’ve had time to think about it you can’t get past your rule about dating colleagues?”

“He doesn’t know about the rules.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Of course not, I don’t want him to think I’m crazy.”

“But you’re fine with me thinking that you’re a loonie?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re Scribbs.” Ash’s explanation shouldn’t make any sense but it is strangely reassuring.

“So are you coming back to bed?”

“Scribbs, what are we doing?”

“We are going back to sleep so that when I wake up I get to have sex with you and that’s a definite plan, you should put it in your diary or something.”

“Is that all we are doing?”

“I don’t expect you to give anything that you don’t want but I am serious about this, about you.” She grabs Ash’s hands and pulls her upright because she is starting to think that Ash is never going to move under her own power.

“You are.”

“Yep, have been for a long time.”

“I think I could be in love with you.”

“That’s good,” she kisses Ash’s lips, “Because if I was on the stand,” kiss, “and I said that I didn’t love you,” kiss, “I’d be committing perjury.” Ash smiles against her lips and she allows her to deepen the kiss. “Now please come to bed.” She crawls into bed and curls herself around Ash, “Ash?”

“Mmmmmmm.”

“I’m definitely getting sex in the morning, right?”

“Goodnight Scribbs.” Ash is absolutely right, it has been a good night, a very, very good night.


End file.
